


Porcelain

by BirdMonster



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 23:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6774046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdMonster/pseuds/BirdMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inigo didn’t like to think about it-- the possibility of it all coming to an abrupt end. Of loneliness finding him once again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Porcelain

Owain’s capacity to be gentle never failed to catch Inigo off guard. It was strange-- the audacious man was always boisterous in his every action. His way of speaking was loud, his movements dynamic, and though others often teased him for his tendency to adorn his fighting stances with odd titles, his style was frightful on the battlefield all the same. It contrasted greatly with Inigo’s own grace. 

He often collided with the brash side of Owain’s personality. The two of them would argue or fight-- it would end in a push or a shove or even a tackle, but never in a serious ailment. The two of them were just playing-- even when their quarrels hardly felt like a game, they both still knew.

This was the Owain he was used to, but the other could switch in an instant. Go from treating Inigo as an old rival to handling him like he was made from porcelain. Pulling him into a careful embrace, leaving soft kisses across his skin. It was strange, but not unwelcome.

After battles wore him ragged, his limbs aching and his heart weary, he looked forward to those moments. The moments where it was only the two of them and it was quiet. Owain would brush Inigo’s hair to the side, comparing the beauty of his eyes to the constellations and bringing a flush to his cheeks with such poetics. Turning away to hide his embarrassment, Inigo would push against him in protest. But truly, he reveled in Owain’s words. In his intricate stories and perplexing way of speaking, in the names of his weapons and self-proclaimed heroism. More than anything, Inigo feared those words would cease. With the slash of an opposing blade, the camp would fall silent, and no amount of noise would ever again be able to fill the air in the same way.

These thoughts always caused for him to bury his face in Owain’s shoulder, nuzzling against the crook of his neck. He never wanted to voice these concerns lest it make them come true. Yet it seemed Owain understood in the way he hugged Inigo closer, pressing his lips against the side of his head. Owain knew these fears all too well. 

The duration of the war was indeterminate, the happenings that would follow just the same. Inigo didn’t like to think about it-- the possibility of it all coming to an abrupt end. Of loneliness finding him once again. So he shoved those thoughts aside, rejecting them for one more night, and he looked up to Owain. In unison, they moved, lips meeting in a kiss that tasted bittersweet. No one knew what the future would entail. But right then, they had that moment, and neither of them wanted it to end.


End file.
